


drawn into

by analineblue



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion thinks too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drawn into

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elanra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanra/gifts).



> This is for Elanra over on ff.net, for being so sweet and encouraging. <3 This is also possibly the fluffiest fluff I’ve ever written, lol.

_the earth (like the heart) slopes in its seat  
and like that it travels along an elliptical path  
drawn into the darkness_

Bjork - _Solstice_

**

Nezumi’s face is close, close enough that Shion can smell his shampoo as several errant strands of hair escape their confines and brush against his face. The scent is vaguely floral - or no, it’s really more like apple, maybe. Shion can’t really tell, to be honest, and besides, who can concentrate on something like shampoo when Nezumi’s body is pressed so close against him like this. It’s like some kind of magnetic force has plastered them against each other, like long patches of grass pressed flat against the earth by the wind. 

When they’re this close, a lot of the time Shion thinks he might actually understand what’s going on in Nezumi’s head – it’s one of the things he loves so much about being close to Nezumi, about kissing him, about touching him, about feeling his skin against Nezumi’s. Shion loves how easy all of these things are, and how honest Nezumi’s eyes are up close like this.

And then Shion stops everything, stops even breathing, because suddenly Nezumi’s eyes have acquired a familiar, faraway look – like he’s somewhere else, or wants to be. It makes Shion feel miles away too, as if the whole expanse of the city lies between them, still. It makes him unsure of himself, of being here, of being _alive_ \- of all of it. 

“Nezumi,” he says, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to sound quite so whiny, so utterly _plaintive_. 

Above him, Nezumi shifts on the bed, and Shion is suddenly very aware of just how much of his body is currently sharing contact with Nezumi, a web of shifting connections, traceable by origin and point of intersection – Nezumi’s left knee and his inner right thigh, his left shoulder and torso and the right half of Nezumi’s chest. He thinks he may feel Nezumi’s thumb against the soft flesh behind his left ear. He shivers. 

“Shion, what?” Nezumi asks impatiently.

Shion says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Are you okay?” 

“What do you mean _am I okay_?” Nezumi asks, narrowing his eyes. He props himself up on his palms, and looks down at Shion. 

Shion frowns up at him. The seconds tick by, and Nezumi’s eyes are flashing at him dangerously. Like a thunderstorm, Shion thinks, and shivers again. They stare at each other for a moment, not moving. And then Nezumi’s leg twitches involuntarily, perhaps a result of the awkward position they’ve been frozen in, and they sigh, almost in unison.

“It’s just… I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” Shion says finally. 

“So?”

Shion considers this.

“Well, sometimes I want you to _stop_.”

Nezumi bristles, but before the misunderstanding has fully blossomed on his face Shion has caught it, and is tugging Nezumi towards him again. 

“Not _this_ ,” he clarifies, as Nezumi’s elbows and wrists fold easily at his prompting. “I don’t mean this,” he whispers, and then, due more to momentum and gravity than any kind of movement on Shion’s part, his lips are pressed against Nezumi’s. Shion gets lost in the sensation for a moment. He presses his tongue lightly against the thin crease of Nezumi’s lips until they part; it’s like falling off the edge of a cliff, every single time.

“I mean that you never stop thinking,” Shion says after a moment, his words falling first against Nezumi’s lips and then into the soft, unexplored region of skin just behind Nezumi’s right ear. His tongue darts out and he can feel Nezumi’s pulse under it, thrumming, electric. “And sometimes I wish you would.” 

“Look who’s talking,” Nezumi murmurs. He lets out a barely concealed moan as Shion’s tongue finds his earlobe. “I can assure you I’m not thinking now,” he says quietly, and Shion can feel the sound vibrating through his skin. 

Shion runs his teeth over the soft flesh experimentally and feels Nezumi squirm on top of him, his breath huffing out against his cheek in short, undignified little bursts. 

“You’re _always_ thinking,” Shion says, releasing Nezumi’s earlobe with a tiny pop. 

He is, of course, aware of the fact that he may no longer just be talking about Nezumi here, that it’s entirely possible that _he_ is just as guilty when it comes to thinking too much at times like this, when he could just be concentrating on the shape of Nezumi’s calves, or the way Nezumi's pulse quickens when Shion flicks the tip of his tongue over his collarbone. 

“I am _not_ ,” Nezumi argues eventually, and halfheartedly flops over to Shion’s side on the bed. Their legs are tangled together though, so the movement pulls Shion along with him. Suddenly Nezumi’s face is so close he can feel his breath against his nose.

Shion blinks. “I just think we should enjoy this, that’s all.” 

Nezumi laughs and the sound is surprisingly loud in the small space between them. 

“Says the guy who had his first kiss, what, three weeks ago?” Nezumi says, his eyes lowering into slits. “What do you know about _enjoyment_ anyway?”

Shion’s face flushes. He sits up, and Nezumi follows suit. They stare at each other for a moment. Finally, Nezumi sighs. 

“Okay, come on. What is it? This isn’t about us enjoying…” Nezumi hesitates, sighs. “You know, _this_ ,” he offers begrudgingly.

“I…” Shion hesitates. “I just want you to be happy.” 

At this Nezumi lets out another loud laugh, and rolls his eyes. “Come on, Shion, really?”

“What? Am I not allowed to be concerned about your happiness? I know how much of a burden it is, having me here, and you work so hard and…” Shion deflates a little, and lets out a breath. “I just wanted to be sure. I thought it’d be nice to ask.”

Nezumi opens his mouth, closes it. He sighs loudly. 

“I have no idea what do to do with you sometimes, you know that?” 

Nezumi’s eyes have that soft, pale look in them, and Shion feels his stomach quiver in anticipation as Nezumi’s hands cup his chin, tilting his head up towards him. Shion closes his eyes instinctively and feels Nezumi’s fingers tighten against his skin. 

“Open your eyes,” Nezumi says, low and quiet, but urgent. 

Shion complies, and for a long moment they stare at each other. Nezumi is almost too close for him to be able to focus properly, but there’s a light there in Nezumi’s eyes that isn’t always there, a light that sometimes fades to darkness, but that isn’t going anywhere right now - it’s right there in front of him on display, and Shion thinks maybe he could get lost in its warmth if given half the chance. He can feel it drawing him in. 

“I’m happy,” Nezumi says, and then kisses him deeply, with no preamble. He just plunges his tongue into Shion’s mouth like he’s trying to turn it inside out, and honestly, he sort of _does_. At least that’s what it feels like to Shion sometimes, with all that pushing and swirling and pressing and pulling. His heart is pounding and his insides feel like they’re on fire and Nezumi… Nezumi is making these impossibly sexy little noises in the back of his throat that Shion has never heard him make before and it’s all a bit dizzying, really. 

He leans back against the wall, and he almost can’t tell which of the pairs of lips, of lungs, of hands belong to him, and which belong to Nezumi. There’s a strange sort of tingling numbness about the whole experience, like he’s in some kind of bubble, wrapped up in Nezumi from head to toe. 

“What about _you_?” Nezumi asks, and Shion realizes that he’s been released. Nezumi’s face is flushed, tiny little blotches of color that spread out over his cheeks and neck. 

“Me?”

“Yeah, you want me to be happy, fine. So what if I want you to be happy too?” 

Nezumi’s eyes are tentative, anxious, and it makes Shion’s chest feel so warm and full he thinks it could burst.

But Nezumi is frowning at him, as if this is a serious question. As if he doesn’t already know the answer. Nezumi _has_ to know the answer. Shion knows this because he knows that Nezumi is smart, and this feels like the most basic and universal of all truths. 

Without really thinking, Shion tugs at Nezumi’s collar and crushes their mouths together until he can barely breathe anymore. 

“There’s nothing that’s ever made me happier,” Shion whispers, breathless and fervent -- too fervent, probably. He’s expecting Nezumi to make fun of him, but instead the look on Nezumi’s face says that he _didn’t_ already know, and suddenly Shion wonders if he should tell Nezumi _everything_. 

The thoughts that wake him up in the middle of the night with such dangerous force that he’s afraid his heart won’t be able to contain them, sometimes. The way his stomach flutters when Nezumi walks into the room, and doesn’t stop for hours. The fact that Shion knows he’d do anything - anything at all - to keep Nezumi safe, and close to him. 

He doesn’t say anything else though, because Nezumi is so close that he can smell apples again, and it’s just too much to resist this time around.

Nezumi smiles a little and runs his thumb over Shion’s cheek, lightly tracing the line of the scar that runs from just above his ear to the center of his face. The gesture is familiar, and so tender it makes Shion’s chest ache.

“I knew that already, of course,” Nezumi says, and presses a light kiss to the edge of Shion’s mouth. “I just thought it’d be nice to ask.” 

**end**


End file.
